


Identity

by KennaxVal



Category: The Freshman Series (Visual Novels)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 23:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KennaxVal/pseuds/KennaxVal





	Identity

I love football. Always have, as far back as I can remember. Some of my favorite memories were of watching the New England Patriots in the Superbowl. Of course, I was too young to remember the first time they won, but since then I developed a taste for watching them triumph again and again.

Every time I took the field, a sense of pride overtook me, like I was part of something bigger than myself. It’s difficult to say what my favorite part of the game was, whether it was the way the wind hit my face when I would rush to the end zone, the smell of the fresh cut grass, or the way I could satisfy my competitive urges.

More than anything, I loved the sense of camaraderie I had the other guys. Sure, I could work hard, get my mind and body in good shape, but the challenge to blend my skills with those around me was a thrill to take on every time I played.   
***  
But today is special, I mean, even more so than usual. After all, it’s not every day you get to play in front of NFL scouts. Naturally, there’s tension in the locker room; everyone is anxious to get out there and make a big impression.

It’s on me to rally the troops. “Guys,” I say to them, standing up straighter than normal, “I know today seems different, but I want you to know that the most important thing is that we have each other’s backs. There are no fans, scouts, or anybody. There is only the Hartfield Knights and the poor bastards that are in our way to glory.”

Immediately, I sense the guys perk up, ready to win. We charge out to the field filled with excited energy. Taking advantage of our momentum, we end the first quarter with a 14-0 lead. By halftime, we’re leading 21-3, and I can tell by everyone’s body language that we’ve got this.

Early in the third quarter, the center snaps the ball to me and I scan the area. But without warning, the opposing defensive end gets through and charges right at me…  
***  
I woke up in a cold sweat. It took a moment for me to adjust to my surroundings, but the pain in my shoulder was a reminder of my situation. Pulling the blanket back over me was a struggle, but trying to go back to sleep was even worse.

As I laid in my bed, I closed my burning eyes and tried to think about anything but the rotator cuff tear that ended my days of football. It was no use since the pain was a constant reminder of the past few days. Honestly, the ache itself wouldn’t be so devastating if only I could recover and play football again.

I’ve felt pain before, it’s never pleasant, but I could endure it. This injury was something new, something that changed my life forever. That thought terrified me. After all, my entire life was wrapped up in football, and even in my darkest times I still had the game I love so much.

Silly as it may seem, much of my identity is tied to football. I have a competitive urge that the game helps me satisfy. The sense of accomplishment made me happy, and even things like training gave me a sense of purpose.

I felt my chest and stomach. The toned muscles were a reminder of all the hard work I put into perfecting my body to compete. I was always proud of the discipline I applied to myself, and the looks I got from the girls (especially Elsie) had a natural appeal for a young man my age.

But now, I wondered what the point even was. All the hours in the gym, the clean meals of lean protein, veggies, and water when I would’ve killed for a pizza or ice cream. And all the nights I spent dreaming of a life in the NFL, being an icon like Tom Brady.

A tear ran down my cheek as I remember how much of myself I put into something that was never going to happen. At that moment, I felt like I lost my identity and my very purpose in life.

With my left hand, I grabbed my football. ‘Maybe I can learn to throw this way.’ I thought to myself and ignored how unnatural it felt as it came out of my hand. The ball was nowhere close to my target, and even that motion made my right shoulder flare up.

A yell wanted to escape my lips, but I grit my teeth to suppress it. Just the same Elsie heard and knocked on my door.

“Chris,” I heard you call out softly, “may I come in.”

“Ok,” I weakly called out, my voice hoarse.

Light from the hallway pooled inside as the door opened. She tiptoed quietly to avoid waking up everyone else. Slowly, she sat down on the bed beside me. Even in the middle of the night wearing an oversized Simpsons t-shirt, she looked like an angel. Her blonde hair and porcelain skin always had an intoxicating effect on me. But this time it was different; I felt like I was unworthy of her now and she might leave me.

One thing about Elsie that’s always amazed me is her ability to know what’s on my mind just by looking at me. She cupped my tear stained, unshaven face and looked at me with such warmth that I felt, for a moment, like everything was going to be alright.

Shaking my head, I looked down, because I knew it wasn’t ever going to be ok again. But she scooted closer to me, lifted my chin and kissed me. There was something comforting about the kiss, I don’t know why, but I could feel her promise to always be by my side.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said holding me close.

“How can you say that?” I asked her, feeling the hurt fill her heart again. “I don’t know who I am anymore, Elsie. I can’t play, compete, or achieve ever again, and that means I’ve lost who I am.”

To my disbelief, she laughed at that remark. “I’m sorry, Chris, I didn’t mean to trivialize your situation, it’s just that you’re so cute.” She placed her hand on my heart, which beat faster at her touch. “You are Chris Powell, and nothing or no one can take that away from you. I know this hurts bad right now, but you are not defined as a person by your job, your activities, or anything besides what’s inside of you. No matter what, I know you’ll find your way again, and I’ll always be there to remind you how much I love you. And I mean you, not some uniform. I know this wasn’t your plan, but that just means that we’ll both have to find our path together, and I’m excited to take on that journey with you.”

Even though my shoulder still hurt, it seemed like something distant as Elsie spoke to me. I felt myself falling in love with her all over again and thanking God that I had such a wonderful woman to comfort me in my time of greatest need.

Initially panic gripped me as I pondered the future, but at that moment, as she curled up to rest her head on my chest, I knew the specifics didn’t matter. It still hurts when I think of what could’ve been, but at the same time, I think of how any change might have conspired to keep Elsie and me apart.

These days I’m still at Hartfield; now as a political science teacher and married to Elsie aka the greatest journalist this nation has ever known. We have two girls and a boy and every day I thank heaven for my beautiful family. My arm still doesn’t quite have the motion it used to, but that’s alright with me. As long as I have my family, my home and my work I’m perfectly happy. Of course, none of that stops me from sitting in my favorite chair during football season to watch my Patriots every Sunday. Sure, I could’ve been one of them, but when I look at Elsie and the kids, I actually feel gratitude for that injury and the opportunity it provided me to discover who I really am and what I really wanted.


End file.
